Meeting of the Minds
by SassC HiJinx
Summary: She could feel his hand grazing her hip just below where her own gloved hand was planted...Was she really about to let him - a stranger, no less - kiss her?
1. The Introduction

There was nothing more refreshing than an early morning flight for Rogue. With the wind whisking through her hair, everything and everybody miles away, and her psyches pacified, she could pretend she was normal.

On this particular morning, she took her time, gliding across the sky instead of streaking by at her usual supersonic speed. It didn't happen often but at the moment, she was at peace and intended to stay that way for as long as possible. After her time with Magneto in the Savage Land and then being mind-controlled by the Shadow King at Muir Island, she was glad for the respite. The X-Men were reunited and ready to take on the world again, but she was determined to enjoy some down time before she had to play superhero again.

She grimaced slightly as she thought of Magneto. She thought she saw something in him during their time together, a part of him that seemed to genuinely care for her, but any tenderness on Rogue's part was squashed by his ruthlessness in Zaladane's death. As much as she wanted to be more upset by his actions, she couldn't. Romance - with anybody - just wasn't in the cards for her. With her powers temporarily negated in Australia, as much as she enjoyed the contact with Erik, she knew it was temporary. Getting close to anybody would eventually end in heartbreak. It was best she got out of that relationship before it had even begun.

Rogue had already come to terms with the fact she'd probably never have a relationship with anyone. Her poisonous touch posed a problem for anyone angling to get close. It didn't matter anyway. That normalcy she craved so intensely that it made her chest hurt didn't matter as long as she was an X-Man. What member of the X-Men was so-called normal or even lived normally? Not a one. She smiled at the thought, feeling comforted. And with that, she decided it was time to get her feet back on the ground again.

By the time she returned to the mansion, she was feeling refreshed and due for her morning caffeine fix.

She always enjoyed the hours of dawn when the mansion was devoid of its inhabitants' activities, which is why her early morning flights were followed by her early morning coffee musings. Considering the near-constant inner ramblings of her psyches, she took enjoyed the solace when she could get it. With the sun peeking up over the horizon and dimly illuminating the large newly rebuilt kitchen, she didn't bother turning on a light. The steps to the coffee machine were nearly ingrained in her brain.

She went to work on preparing the pot, measuring the amount of grinds and adding the water when a foreign voice pierced the silence.

"Don' usually enjoy bein' up dis early, but if it means seeing a _femme_ as beautifulas y', I might star' t' make it a habit."

***x***

_Dieu_, but Remy LeBeau hated mornings. Normally he slept well into the daylight hours, if not later, his body forever tuned to being a night owl. The nightmare that jolted him out of his sleep had been a particularly bad one. He relived the final moments of his duel with Julien, the sword sliding into the Assassin's body before falling to the ground and his lifeless eyes staring up at Gambit, accusingly. Before he could react, Julien's body morphed into Genevieve, the crimson blood pooling around her contorted body as Mr. Sinister strolled up to Gambit's side offering to fix him, fix his powers, in exchange for killing the Morlocks.

Not too many things stirred the Cajun, but his life's biggest sins paraded in front of him were a hard pill to swallow.

With so much darkness in him, he wasn't sure he was cut for this hero stuff. Hell, he didn't even really believe in Professor Xavier's fundamental dream of peace between humans and mutants. He didn't think about those things at all so long as they didn't benefit him in some way. The ends had to justify the means and he wasn't quite sure how to play the hand he had been dealt with his joining of the X-Men.

He had followed Storm to New York to make sure she was okay with this family of hers and before he knew it he was agreeing to go to Genosha, battling Wolverine in a Danger Room jaunt and then going up against the Shadow King after a field trip to the Shi'ar galaxy. Really, it was all in a day's work for the X-Men and it wasn't as if he'd had anything better to do. Before meeting up with Storm, he'd been wondering aimlessly around the globe, picking up thieving jobs and earning his master's mark. It wasn't as if he had a home to back to or even a family, for that matter. Kill or be killed, or so the old adage went. What did it matter anyway? Killing Julien to save himself sealed his fate, at least in the guild's eyes. After he landed the fatal blow, he sought out Belle, and the image of her devastated, wild eyes was one that would never leave his brain.

But as long as he was with the X-Men, it meant he wouldn't have to contemplate his dubious past and the things he so desperately wanted to atone for. Even if it there weren't enough good deeds to wipe his slate clean.

Gambit halted his ruminations from the table he sat at in the darkened breakfast nook when he heard footsteps, steady but light, coming closer. His breath caught when he saw her slim but voluptuous in all the right places, her skintight yellow and green uniform hiding nothing. Wavy auburn hair spilled down her back, highlighted with two distinctive white streaks framing either side of her face. Her cheeks tinged rosy like she had just come in from the morning chill. Gambit assumed he had met every female in the house, but apparently the best had been saved for last. Whoever she was, she was beautiful.

She walked to the coffee machine, unaware of Gambit's concealed presence. He watched as she started to prepare the morning brew, enjoying his unabashed appraisal of her. Her hands were steady, almost nimble, obviously accustomed to the coffee-making routine. It was strange, though, she never removed her gloves...

He decided he'd had enough of playing the silent observer. It was time he introduced himself.

"Don' usually enjoy bein' up dis early, but if it means seeing a _femme_ as beautifulas y', I might star' t' make it a habit."

***x***

Startled, Rogue paused momentarily and then continued to pour the water into the top of the machine before slowly bringing the pot back to the counter, assessing the disembodied voice that called out from across the spacious kitchen. The voice, smooth with a slight lilt, reminded her of marshy bayous, sticky summers and Mardi Gras. The voice, while it had a Southern edge to it that reminded her of home, was distinctively Cajun. Though she had yet to meet him, tales of his shameless flirting with the mansion's female population were downright legendary and he'd only been around for a couple of weeks. This man hiding in the shadows of the kitchen was obviously Storm's new recruit known only as Gambit.

Her mouth quirked as she turned around to attach the voice with a face. "Ah sure do hope ya talkin' ta me, sugah," she drawled.

Her eyes scanned the large kitchen before settling on a darkened figure sitting at the small table in the alcove. She couldn't really make out features per se, but it didn't matter once her gaze fell on his unusual eyes. His irises glowed red in the dusky darkness. However, they didn't scare her as much as they intrigued her. She wondered what they looked like up close.

From his obscured position, it seemed as though he was enjoying the morning's solitude as well. Sympathetic, Rogue felt bad for disturbing him, but now he had her curious.

"Y' de only femme in de room, _chére_," he replied, pleasantly surprised to hear Southern diction spill from her lips. Mississippi, if he wasn't mistaken.

She laughed. "Ya never know. Some people like talkin' ta themselves. Ah should know."

"Y' talk t' y'rself often, _chére_?" His rich voice filled the room, sending a slight shiver down her spine.

"More often than Ah'd like," she admitted with a winsome grin. "Then again, Ah suppose in my case it's not really talkin' ta mahself."

"Now y' talkin' in circles, _ma belle._" A hint of cool curiosity laced the statement. Though she couldn't see him, she feel his smile.

"And you're hidin' in the shadows."

He chuckled lowly, the sound not quite leaving his throat. He gracefully pushed his chair back so the wooden legs barely grazed the hard linoleum.

As her mysterious new teammate materialized from obscurity, Rogue studied his appearance. Now she knew what Jubilee meant when she confided to Rogue that the newest X-Man was a "major babe." His body, all muscles and confidence, filled out his tall, sinewy frame. His grown-out auburn hair framed his handsome, angular face that was covered in stubble. His fashion sense left a little to be desired. Covering a fitted black T-shirt and destroyed denim jeans was a beat-up brown duster that looked like it had seen better days. As he approached, she caught a whiff of stale tobacco.

"Dat better? I know m' view cert'nly is," he offered lightly, his eyes raking over her body.

She ignored his remark. "You're Storm's friend."

"Dere a bulletin?"

"No. Ah'd say your reputation precedes ya," she said lightheartedly, her emerald eyes sparkling.

"Haven't seen y' around, _p'tite_. Got a name?"

She paused, sizing him up. "Rogue."

"Sounds dangerous. I like dat in a girl," he said with a smirk.

An eyebrow lifted suspiciously. "What dontcha like in a girl?"

Actually, he could think of a few things off the bat, some of which his estranged wife Bella Donna possessed, but it wouldn't do him well to get into that just yet. Besides, Belle - for once - was not at the forefront of his consciousness.

"Why don' I take y' out and we can discuss it?" he offered.

"Sorry, Ah usually don't go out with strange men Ah just met."

"Strange, _chérie_? Ouch. Here I t'ought I was bein' charming," he said, taking a step closer.

"Ya bein' something, swamp rat," she tossed back, edging into the counter.

"And now insults. Y' usually insult people y' jus' met?"

Lifting her chin defiantly, she replied, "Only the ones that get fresh."

"Y' got sass, girl, I'll give y' dat," he returned, his eyes appraising her once more. "That's okay, _chére_, give Gambit a lil' bit o' time and he'll win y' over."

"You get on me for talkin' ta mahself and here you are talkin' in third person," she said with a laugh.

"What c'n I say, _chére_? Part of m' charm," he purred, his honeyed voice seemingly pouring over her.

"Sure it ain't part of ya ego? How do ya stay upright with that oversized head of yours?" Rogue said, pushing away from the counter and placing a hand on her hip.

Holding his ground, Remy simply grinned, his crimson eyes staring into hers, twinkling. Suddenly, Rogue found she was mesmerized. He took a half-step closer to the woman in front of him so that they stood only inches away from each other. He was too close for Rogue's comfort, yet the thought barely registered in her now-hazy thoughts. He towered over her, forcing Rogue to tip her head up to keep his molten gaze.

She could have sworn his head moved a centimeter closer to hers. Her heart was beating erratically and she could feel small tremors coursing through her from head to toe. And then he did it - he touched her. She could feel his hand grazing her hip just below where her own gloved hand was planted.

The gossamer sensation was enough to break her reverie. What is wrong you, girl?! her mind screamed. Was she really about to let him - a stranger, no less - kiss her?

She spun around abruptly, blindly reaching for a mug in the cabinet above, fumbling a little. Steadying her hands, she poured the black substance. There would be no doctoring the bitter brew today. No, it was definitely a black coffee day.

"A little jumpy t'day, _chérie_?" he asked smugly. "Y' know, I c'n help wit' dat."

"Sugah," she said, laughing unsteadily, turning back around to meet his eyes. "Ah'd like ta see ya try." With that, she picked up her mug and strolled toward the doorway. When she reached the threshold, she paused.

"See ya around, Cajun," she called over her shoulder before disappearing from his sight.

And life at the X-Mansion just got a little more interesting, Gambit decided. It wouldn't hurt to stick around, at least to see how his hand turned out. And right now, Remy LeBeau was feeling very lucky.


	2. The Date

Rogue had been staring at her closet for the last 20 minutes, hoping that something drop-dead gorgeous would jump out at her. No such luck, she thought. She didn't own anything date-worthy.

She laughed at the word date. That Cajun snake charmer had finally weaseled his way into taking her out. It wasn't exactly fair asking a girl out after putting her through a window. Even though she was virtually invulnerable, getting knocked through sides of buildings didn't exactly tickle. She hadn't been in her right mind when she agreed to it.

They, along with Wolverine and Jubilee, had been playing a no-powers game of basketball. After some questionable shots made by Gambit, Rogue was convinced that he was breaking the rules and called him on it. Agility was obviously part of his powers, she argued.

Despite his nonchalant reaction, her accusation must have rubbed him the wrong way as he proceeded to charge the ball, throw it at her and send her careening through the side of the mansion. Before she had a chance to compose herself, she found herself in his arms with his handsome face inches from hers.

"You may have lost the game, y' an' your furry partner," he purred, "but for y', at least, there is a chance to claim somethin' from the day! Champagne. Candlelight. Magic time, _chére_."

She remembers smiling at his actual proposal of a date, thinking it charming and funny that anyone, especially him, would actually consider taking her out. Then again, it was possible that she was half-concussed at the time.

It was only when his face moved closer to hers that she snapped back to reality with the possibility of absorption mere centimeters in front of her. So she did what came natural - she pitched a fit and ran off.

Despite the fact she all but agreed to meet him at the appointed time, she currently stood in her room, desperately trying to find something to wear. She glanced at her alarm clock. Crap, she had 45 minutes to get ready and she still had to do her hair. Looking at her closet again her hangers of practical clothing mocking her she decided it was time to call in re-enforcements.

Five minutes later, she returned to her room with Jean and Ororo in tow.

"Ah need help, ladies. Ah have no idea what Ah'm doin'. Suggestions?"

"How about something classy?" Jean offered.

"Right, classy," Rogue said, nodding. "Like what?"

"Like a nice, simple dress. Maybe a wrap and some heels," she replied. "Oh, and definitely a pair of opera gloves."

"Ah have none of those things, save for the gloves," Rogue stated, sighing. But ask her to go into battle, and Rogue had combat boots, uniforms and gloves for every occasion.

After a moment, Jean's face lit up. "I think I have just the thing. I'll be right back."

"Come, Rogue, sit down and I will help you with your hair," Ororo said in her trademark calm and melodic voice. Always the serene center in the squall, Storm was.

Rogue allowed Ororo to guide her to her desk chair and begin work on her hair. She had to laugh. She'd never been pampered in her life, but she had to admit she enjoyed being fussed over. As Ororo ran a blow dryer and a round brush through her damp locks, Rogue's thoughts drifted to Gambit.

He annoyed her - God, did he annoy her - but damn if her stomach didn't perform Olympic-class somersaults when he was around. She couldn't possibly like him. He wasn't her type. Except that she hadn't dated enough guys - any guys, really - to have a type. But if she had, he would not be it. Nope, not in a million years, even if he did seem to take a genuine interest in her and didn't seem remotely concerned or scared about her unstable mutation. Whereas most people went out of their way to avoid skin-to-skin contact with Rogue, Gambit made sure he got right up in her personal space and then mocked her for being the nervous one.

Once, she took a nap on the couch in one of the recreation rooms only to wake with him watching her.

"Can Ah help ya?"

"Y' look like _un ange_ when y' sleepin', _chérie_. 'Specially when y' drool."

Her hand self-consciously flying up to her mouth, she responded indignantly, "Ah don't drool!"

He just smiled.

"Ya think that's funny? Ah'm sure mah fist connectin' ta ya face will be even funnier," she said, fuming, accent thickening. "Ah know it'll make me feel betta."

"_Chére_, y' so quick t' threaten violence. Where's y' finesse?"

"Musta drooled it outta me," she sneered.

He laughed. "Glad t' see y' haven't lost y' sense of humor, Roguey."

And so they proceeded to fall into their ritual. She would snap at him for one of his inane comments. He would then press his luck, which usually entailed calling her "Roguey" or touching her, thus, infuriating her even more before she overreacted and retreated.

She didn't even know his real name, which made them even because he didn't know hers. Nobody did, and she intended to keep it that way. Anna Marie was dead and buried, never to be heard from again. That girl, who was so carefree and mischievous, who liked to play by the river and catch frogs and drive her Aunt Carrie crazy, well, that girl was never coming back. Once her powers came to fruition, Rogue always had to be on her guard. Always had to take care not to touch anyone, not to let anyone touch her. The profound worry weighed her down, made her cautious. Made her isolated. No, Anna Marie didn't live here anymore. She went away the second Cody Robbins hit the ground, unconscious.

Storm's voice broke her stream of consciousness. "You will have a nice time tonight, Rogue. I promise that for all of Gambit's bravado he will treat you the way you deserve."

"Ya seem pretty sure about him, 'Ro," the Southerner said, doubtfully.

"I would not have brought him here if I did not feel he had a good heart. He may not be as forthcoming as we would like, but I believe we are all a little bit guarded at times," she said, glancing down at Rogue pointedly.

Rogue smiled. "Ah don't know what ya talkin' 'bout, sugah." Taking a deep breath, she continued. "All right. Ah'll give him a chance. Lord knows Ah'll never get a moment's peace if Ah don't."

"Got it!" Jean exclaimed, bustling into the room, her arms filled with something red and satiny. "I've got the perfect dress and shoes for you. We're about the same size, I think."

"Go ahead," Ororo said, fixing Rogue's part so that her hair, which Storm had coaxed to dry in its natural waviness, fell a little more to the right side of her face, framing it prettily. "I'm done here."

"Ah think ya missed ya calling, 'Ro," Rogue commented, grinning at herself in the mirror. "Maybe Ah should get ya ta do mah hair all the time."

"We will wait for you downstairs," she replied with a grin as she and Jean turned to leave.

Once Rogue was alone she picked up the dress and examined it. It was gorgeous with its cherry red satin bodice and similarly colored gossamer hemlines. As she slid the gauzy fabric up her body, she relished the feeling that she was transforming into someone entirely different. Spaghetti straps held up the bodice that skimmed her chest attractively without showing too much. A strip of banded satin wrapped around the waist, just below her breasts in a way that cinched the dress, showing off her feminine shape. The bottom half of the dress was layered in chiffon in which the hem grazed just above her knees in the front and gradually fell to her mid-calves in the back.

When Rogue finished dressing, she examined herself in the mirror almost surprised at the polished girl staring backing at her. She wasn't quite Anna Marie, but she wasn't exactly Rogue, either. She was someone new and she was doing it because of him, for him.

Speaking of the swamp rat, Gambit was so going to lose it when he saw her. The thought made her giddy. With only a few minutes to spare, she quick applied some makeup, strapped on Jean's silver heels and threw a white blazer over the dress, having already pulled on black opera gloves, and deemed herself ready to make an impression.

Taking a deep breath, she exited her room and went downstairs. Gambit was supposed to be waiting outside for her, but before she put herself in front of him for approval, she had to go through the rest of the mansion.

When she reached the foyer, she found Jean, Ororo, Scott, Logan and Jubilee waiting to see her off. Rogue snorted lightly at the sight of the small crowd gathered for what Rogue assumed they thought would be a show. "Y'all come ta wish a girl luck or ya just wanna see me all dolled up?"

"Well, I, for one, totally wanted to see you dressed up for once, Rogue. Glad to see you got in ya, girl!" Jubilee said cheerfully.

"Just makin' sure Gumbo treats ya right," Logan said, barely able to keep his growl in check.

"That's sweet, Logan, but Ah'm positive Ah can handle him," Rogue said, moving towards the door. As she swung it open, her vision caught sight of Gambit, leaning on his bike, talking to himself.

"Where is dat girl? She's gon' learn I don't wait too long for..."

He stopped mid-sentence as soon as his eyes fell on her posing in the doorway. Gambit was an expert at masking his emotions but when he saw Rogue he made no attempt to hide his immerse pleasure at the sight of her soft curves on display just for him.

"For me, c_hére_?"

She snorted. "You wish. A lady has ta look her best when she goes out on the town, Gambit," she replied, relieved to hear that her voice sounded steady, even as her heart pounded a hard staccato in her chest. "After all, there might be some real gentlemen at that restaurant."

He smirked and subtly cocked his chin forward, motioning for her to join him. It was a gesture that made her knees weak.

She heard Jubes say something about Taco Bell, but at that point, she wasn't paying attention as Gambit led her to his bike, holding out a hand to help her get on.

She accepted his assistance and climbed over the Harley, gingerly positioning herself so that the dress wouldn't catch on anything.

As he settled into the front seat, he turned to Rogue, his scarlet irises glimmering. "I don' t'ink I told y', _chére_, but y' look real pretty. _Absolument belle_."

She gave him a light shove. "Just drive, Cajun," she said, unable to keep the wide smile from appearing on her face.

She wrapped her arms around his waist as he started the Harley's engine. For all her resistance leading up to that moment, Rogue realized that there was nowhere else she'd rather be.

***x***

All the quotes that came from comic book canon are courtesy of The Joker and The Queen, one of the best and most extensive ROMY sites around. If you haven't visited, I definitely recommend it.

And my inner fashionista took liberties with Rogue's dress because the ensemble portrayed in the comics was… interesting, to say the least. I'd like to think my dress was an upgrade.


	3. The Workout

Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own them!

***x***

She was lounging on the sofa, engrossed in Harlequin's latest monthly paperback when she heard distinctly female giggling accompanied by decidedly male murmuring.

As the muffled voices came closer, she was able to identify them as belonging to Jean and Scott. They must be returning from their date night. Great, she thought sarcastically, just what Ah need to see - the wonder couple in all their glory. As soon as the thought drifted through her consciousness, though, she regretted it. She had nothing against Jean, Scott or their relationship. She was genuinely happy for them but sometimes it was hard for her to stomach such intimacy at close range. It was one thing to read about it in a book with fictional characters but it was another thing to see it acted out in front of her with real people displaying their very real feelings for each other. They stumbled into the room on each other's arms, grinning the grins of two people happily in love.

"Oh, hi, Rogue," Jean greeted when she spotted her fellow mutant on the couch. "Sorry, are we disturbing you?"

"No, not at all," Rogue said, biting back a harsh retort and trying her best not to project her dark emotions so as Jean would not pick up on them. Unfortunately, concealing her emotions wasn't Rogue's forte. "Ah was just readin' a book in a formerly quiet room."

"Oh, we can leave-" Jean said quickly, pulling Scott to the doorway.

Rogue sighed. "No, that's okay. Ah'll go. Need ta stretch mah legs anyway. You two enjoy yaselves."

"Is she okay?" Scott asked once Rogue left, the leader of the X-Men used to the young woman's sudden mood swings.

"She's lonely, Scott," Jean replied sadly, "and more than a little frustrated.

"Is she projecting loudly again?"

Jean sighed. "I don't need to use my telepathy to know what she's feeling. Just look at her face."

***x***

Rogue breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she felt the cool night air on her face. Normally when she was in these moods, she'd take flight and let her problems fade away as she soared through the heavens. At the moment, though, she felt content to stroll the mansion's vast property, contemplating her own sorry life. No, it wasn't fair to say her whole life was one wretched waste of time. Her professional life with the X-Men was fine, fulfilling even; it was her personal life where things crumbled.

It was only a couple weeks ago that she and Gambit attempted their first date, which had been a complete and utter failure, thanks to an attack on them by Omega Red. After their first date debacle, things between her and the Cajun were quiet. Sure, he continued to flirt with her at every opportunity but he hadn't once broached the subject of another date. She assumed his attitude was one failed date was one too many. It was better that way, simpler. Pursuing a relationship with anybody - especially Gambit - was an all-around lousy idea. Relationships were based on intimacy, touch. She really couldn't see a guy like Gambit forgoing such an important aspect for too long.

As she reached the estate's impressive Japanese gardens, she noticed Gambit leaning against a delicate trellis with Japanese honeysuckle twining through it, smoking a cigarette. Startled, she tried to backtrack without catching his attention. Unfortunately, trying to avoid a mutant whose power included spatial awareness was impossible.

"_Chére_, y' not avoidin' me, are y'?" he called out, his perpetual smirk plastered to his face.

"Ah, uh, no, Ah was just," she stuttered, growing angry at her less than composed reaction to him. Planting an angry fist on her hip, she shot back, "Ya know, not everything's about _you_, Cajun, despite what ya overly inflated head tells ya."

"Aww, but,_ chérie_, everyt'ing concerns Gambit when it's 'bout y'."

She snorted. "In your dreams, swamp rat."

"Dat's exactly where I see y', _chére_. Though usually y' not so overdressed," he said, his eyes sweeping over her curvy body heavily clad from neck to toes.

She felt the heat rise in her face at his boldness. "Ya know, Ah just came out here ta blow off some steam, not ta be harassed," she responded wearily.

His brow furrowed at her dejected response. She always had something clever to hurl back at him when he got fresh. He scrutinized her more closely. Her face was a stony facade, brow set in an annoyed crease, but her eyes...her eyes were filled with a palpable sadness.

"Y' okay, _chére_?"

"Ah'm fine. Ah-"

Pushing himself off the trellis, he said, "Y' don' look fine. Y' look downright crushed. Like everyone else got picked for de team save for y'."

"Ah don't wanna talk about it," she drawled. "Can we drop it?"

"I t'ink, _chére_, dat we ain't gon' drop it," he stated with ease. "In fact, I t'ink y' need a break."

She looked at him suspiciously, knowing that any bright ideas from the Cajun were troublesome. "What are ya proposing? A vacation?"

"Of a sort. Y' jus' need t' get away from y'self for a while."

"Ah'm already not myself half the time," she proclaimed. "Don't need a break from me. In fact, Ah need more of me and less of the others." It was true. She had acquired dozens upon dozens of psyches over the years and, at any given time, she had their thoughts roaming through her mind.

"Ah, but, _chére_," he cajoled, taking a step closer. "Y' ain't never had Gambit up dere. T'ink he might do y' right."

"Ah really don't wantcha in my head, swamp rat. That's about the last thing Ah need."

"C'mon. You, me and m' powers in the Danger Room blowin' off some steam. Y' look like y' need to cut loose right 'bout now."

She snorted at the absurdity of his suggestion. "Lemme get this right. You want me ta absorb ya?" He nodded. "And use your powers as a way to have fun? Ya have some seriously demented ideas of entertainment."

He knew how her power worked; just a simple touch and his powers, personality and secrets would be hers. A dangerous plan to say the least. If she became privy to his heavily concealed past, it would be all over. He'd lose his shot with her in an instant and his lofty position with the X-Men would be snatched away from him. So if he was going to give her a taste of what it was like to be him without the jeopardizing implications, he'd be sure to put his best foot forward.

"C_hére_, t'ink 'bout it," he wheedled. "Can't tell me y' ain't never wondered what was goin' on in dis Cajun's head."

"Ah don't know, Gambit..." Truth was she did wonder about him. More than she'd care to admit.

"It'll be fun. Enlight'ning," he promised, putting two fingers over his heart.

"Ah'm not really sure whose supposed ta be havin' fun in this scenario. Me or you," she admitted, sizing him up.

"How 'bout both o' us, _chére_?"

"If Ah agree ta this, it'll jus' be a simple touch. Nothin' prolonged," she emphasized, cocking an eyebrow.

A negligible touch was exactly what he was banking on. "Spoilsport. Y' know there's a much more pleasurable way of goin' 'bout doin' dis," he said, leaning in, his burning scarlet eyes studying her lush lips. "C'mere, _chére_, I don' bite. 'Less y' want me to," he leered.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't ya get tired of hearing yaself talk?"

"Hasn't happened yet. 'Course y' could change that."

"Ah'm not kissing ya," she said stolidly as she removed a glove, holding out a bare hand to him. He continued to stare at her lovely face.

His scrutiny made Rogue edgy and impatient. "Well, sugah, Ah ain't got all night," she snapped.

"Y' sure y' ready, _p'tite_? T'ings about t' get _très_ _intéressant_."

"Just hold out ya hand, Gambit," she snapped.

Though his gloves left his index and pinky fingers exposed, he removed the article nonetheless to prove to Rogue he was not afraid of her or her vampire mutation.

Palm up, he offered his now-naked hand to her.

Glancing at the expectant hand, so much larger and rougher than her own but no less as exposed and vulnerable, she took a deep breath and tried not to let her hand shake even though her entire body was trembling with anticipation. Her hand slowly descended to hover directly over his. Squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath, she closed the gap between their uncovered hands. She gasped at the feather light contact as pieces of Gambit's persona trickled into her mind. Then she started to giggle.

Feeling somewhat lightheaded from the gentle pull of her power, his mouth quirked at the rare sight. "Somet'ing 'bout me funny t' y'?"

"Oh, Gawd, y' even have dirty t'ings t' say in m' head," she spoke through her giggling, his accent weaving into her speech pattern, her hand now back at her side, far away from his.

His mouth pulled into a larger smile as he rejoiced that his little experiment was turning out to be a success. "Y' eyes look like mine," he said with equal parts awe and lust.

She blinked several times as her formerly green eyes - now red on black - adjusted to Gambit's superb night vision, while her mind adapted to his spatial awareness and her body to the increasing tingling sensation traveling down to her fingertips. "It's like...de whole world around me is alive! I c'n feel everyt'ing." Her speech sounded more and more like she had been raised on the bayou her entire life. As his carefree and slightly perverted personality seeped into her cautious mind, she immediately felt her previous melancholy and concerns slip away. She felt relaxed and brazen and even a little tipsy. She felt like...Gambit. So this is what it's like to be the sleazy Cajun, she thought ironically.

With just the barest of touches, she now had a head full of Gambit. She wondered what would happen if they engaged in longer skin-to-skin contact.

Then, as if out of thin air, a deck of cards appeared in front of her. Gambit plucked the two of spades from the deck and handed it to her. "Here, bright eyes. Try it out."

Gingerly, she accepted the card with her ungloved hand. With only a mild nudge on her part, the paper came alive with Gambit's trademark fuchsia glow.

"Wow," she breathed as the card came alive with the kinetic power she fed it. So enthralled by her new ability, she didn't notice the card's increasing sparking and whining as it threatened to detonate.

"Might wanna get rid of dat, _chére_," he said casually, breaking her reverie.

"Wha-? Oh!" Rogue discarded the blazing card faster than a scalded dog. It exploded, bright pink lighting up the evening sky, as it sailed through the air.

Looking somewhat dazed, she spoke up. "_C'était étonnant_!"

"Glad y' like m' powers. T'ought y' might. Dey fun, _non_?"

She nodded affirmatively. "Right glad dey are." With a mischievous gleam in her eyes, she added wickedly, "Lessgo blow some t'ings up, sugah."

***x***

As they made their way to the depths of the basement where the Danger Room was located, she was amazed at how different Gambit's psyche was from the others. Usually, when she absorbed someone, their psyche raged against her, threatening to take over her mind, or at the very least, make her miserable. But with Gambit's, it was almost as though he enjoyed being there. At the moment, his psyche was in the middle of a running commentary of all the things he could do to her despite not being able to touch in the traditional sense. Most of it was enough to make her blush feverishly.

Actually, his psyche was exactly how she thought it would be - charismatic, seductive, insouciant, and of course, infuriating - but one aspect that surprised her was his pronounced feelings for her. His psyche confirmed that her status as an untouchable woman was a large part of his attraction to her, but underneath that frivolity revealed an emotion of real depth - the fact that he genuinely liked her for who she was and wanted to be around her regardless of not being able to touch skin to skin.

"Huh," she said speculatively.

"Am I keepin' y' entertained, _fille_?" he asked, looking down at her, an amused look painted on his face.

"Y' could say dat. Much like de original, dis Gambit," she replied, motioning to her head, "lets his mouth overload his tail."

"No doubt workin' de charm?"

"Not sure charm's de word. More like..." she continued as she lifted up to whisper a naughty suggestion in his ear with a devious smile lighting up her face.

Hearing Rogue whisper in his ear just about killed him but the things she said to him - and in his own accent no less! - convinced him she was definitely ready to get down and dirty.

As she backed away him, a roguish grin still radiating her face, he cleared his throat and attempted to regain his equilibrium. "Can't say y' don' know how t' get a _homme_ excited, _chére_." He punched in the room's code, "Ready t' kick some ass?"

"Always, _mon ami_," she said with a faux sweetness.

As they entered the threshold of the magnificent room, he withdrew his adamantium bo-staff from his duster. "How 'bout y' try some o' de equipment dat goes along wit' Gambit's lifestyle?" he challenged, extending the staff to its fullest length. "If y' c'n handle it, dat is."

"If y' even think o' makin' a comment 'bout y' having a big stick, I will have t' seriously hurt y', Gambit."

He let out a bark of laughter. "Wouldn't dream o' it, _chére_. Besides, y' got a mind as dirty as m' own now. Don' need t' say a t'ing," he with a devastating smile before he tossed her the metal staff.

She leaped, seamlessly catching it mid-air. "Unfortunately, I now have a clear picture o' how perverted y' really are."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, _non_?" he called as he threw a charged card at her.

She easily deflected the fiery card with the bo-staff. "Dat all y' got, Cajun?"

"Ain't even close t' what I got in store f' y', _chére_." He lunged at her, hurling an array of cards in her direction. Before testing her newfound abilities on DR simulations, he thought it would be best to warm up. And what better way to do that than to battle each other. She matched him jab for jab, block for block, tumble for tumble. Never before had he fought anyone who could keep up with him so well. Essentially he was fighting against himself, and he had to admit his moves looked good on her.

They danced around the room, now full of aggressive holograms stalking them, taking on the simulations with Gambit's natural agility and fighting skills. He let Rogue take the lead, letting her immerse herself in her newfound powers. As for Rogue, she gleefully used up every one of Gambit's cards, taking turns between lazily tossing and forcefully chucking them at sims and a few times in his direction. She relished being able to let loose and allow Gambit's psyche lead her.

After two hours of running simulations and battling each other, they laid boneless and panting on the DR floor, side by side.

Lying there, exhausted but feeling oddly rejuvenated, she had to admit that Gambit was right. Absorbing him and getting away from herself and her problems had made her feel better. Of course being close to the handsome Cajun did make for a new set of problems...

"What did I tell y', _petit_'? It's good bein' Gambit, _hein_?" he said with an impish smile.

"Uh huh. Ya want me ta getcha an aspirin or two ta keep the swellin' of ya head down? 'Cause all this self-glorification is surely causing it ta grow two sizes too big," she said, her own accent coming to the forefront once again as his psyche and powers ebbed away, though his psyche would never dissipate completely.

"Really? 'Cuz m' head feels the same size it's always been," he said, gamely putting a hand to his skull. Clearing his throat, he soberly began, "Y' never did say what y' were upset 'bout earlier."

"Ah recall sayin' Ah didn't wanna talk about it. Same stance still applies."

"Dat's okay, _chére_. T'ink I know what's goin' on."

Exhaling a breath she didn't even know she was holding, she replied, "Oh? And what exactly is goin' on? Since ya now know me so well?"

"I t'ink y' feelin' down 'bout y'self more dan anyone has a right t' be. Y' look at your mutation as a reason t' keep y'self closed off. Y'r afraid to get close even when others are willin' t' take de risk. But y' don' really wan' dem getting close, do y'? Because dat would make y' vulnerable and de Rogue's never vulnerable. Least dat's what she tells herself."

"You don't know what you're sayin', swamp rat," she said solemnly.

"Den what is it?"

Sighing, she replied, "It's called self-preservation. More than that, it's protecting everyone else from what I can do."

"Know a t'ing or two 'bout that," he conceded. "But, _chére_, 'm not out t' hurt y'."

"No, but you're definitely out for conquest," she stated. His body stiffened at hearing the blatant remark, though there was absolute truth in it. "Ya know Ah'm not the ultimate heist," she continued after a while.

He turned his head to look her, taking note at how close her body was to his. "That's how Ah feel sometimes when ya look at me," she confessed. "Like Ah'm some rare treasure that ya wanna steal before someone else gets there first."

"Y' definitely a rare treasure, but I'd rather y' come willingly. Always better when y' willing," he said, leaning over on his elbow, his head tipping towards her flushed face.

"Don't," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Ah'll hurt ya."

"Somet'ings are worth de pain, _non_?"

"Ah don't wanna hurt ya, Gambit, and if Ah let ya kiss me, hurt is all we're gonna get."

"Gotta let someone in sometime."

"Don't ya see?" she said, sadly shaking her head against the hard metal floor. "That's the problem. Ah do let people in, but they don't evah get out. Your psyche's now part of the dozens of others who hate me because they're trapped in mah consciousness."

Lightly running his gloved fingers along the side of her face, he answered, "Y' talkin bout y' head, but I'm talkin' 'bout y' heart." Her organ in question fluttered at the statement, her green gaze locking with his molten one.

"Now ya see there? That's even more trouble," she said with a woeful smile.

"Only if y' let be," he said softly.

"No, that's the way it has ta be," she said regretfully as she moved away from his electric touch. Rolling to her feet, she announced that it was time to call it a night.

***x***

Though she was eager to leave Gambit's company in the hallway outside the Danger Room, he insisted on walking her to her room. In a way, the whole night seemed like a bizarre version of a date, right down to him depositing her safely at her door.

"Ah'd invite ya in," she announced as they stood outside her bedroom, "but Ah'm not sure you can behave yaself."

"Pretty sure I restrained m'self tonight," he returned smoothly.

"Barely," she conceded, grinning.

"Y' know, _chére_, mebbe it's me who should be worried. I seem t' remember y' whisperin' somet'ing downright obscene in m' ear outside de Danger Room."

Rogue averted her eyes, blushing profusely. "Ah was, was, uh-"

"Yes, _chére_?" he prompted.

Flustered, she retorted angrily, "Ah was under the influence of you! Ah can't be held responsible for what Ah say after Ah absorb someone."

"If dat's what y' need t' tell y'self, Rogue, go right ahead. But I t'ink we both know de truth."

"Which is?" she challenged.

"Mebbe deep down y' like me like I like y'."

"Ah admit ta nothin'," she said coyly.

He leaned in until his lips were almost grazing hers. Her breathing hitched and her heart thumped frantically as she could feel his warm breath on her face. If she just leaned her mouth forward a millimeter she'd feel those lips she'd been fantasizing about since their first heated encounter in the mansion's kitchen all those months ago. Before she got the chance, his face pulled away from hers.

"'Til next time, _chére_," he said throatily as he brought one of her gloved hands to his lips before taking his leave.

Breathing a little more heavily than she had been a minute ago, she leaned against the door for support and cursed herself for letting Gambit walk away with the upper hand. Thanks to the briefest of touches, she knew now that for all his bravado he did really care for her, the depth of which surprised her. And now he knew her true feelings as well.

The thought left her terrified...and excited. But she couldn't shake the sinking feeling that whatever was blossoming between them was not something that would end well - for many reasons. Sighing, she opened her door and knew she would spend the rest of the night contemplating the riotous emotions she was harboring.


	4. The Confession

DISCLAIMER: Not mine.

Also, there are two quotes from issue #4 of the first Gambit solo series. (Thanks, alliegal, for the correction!) Rogue will remember them in flashbacks marked with italics.

***x***

Getting ready for bed, Rogue changed into a pair of gray sweatpants and a fitted white tank, leaving her feet bare. Pulling her long chestnut hair into a ponytail and letting her silky white bangs frame the sides of her face, she reflected on the fact that her bedtime ritual is one of the few times she feels comfortable enough to peel off her many layers, both fabric and emotional, and allow herself some freedom. Even on the coldest New York winter nights, she often wears only shorts and a tank top to bed, reveling in the sensation of uncovered skin on soft sheets.

There, in the safety and privacy of her room, could she drop her pretenses and let her rigid control fade away. There, among the beady eyes of her impressive stuffed animal collection, she didn't have to worry about accidently touching someone or them her, didn't have to see the pity or fear in their eyes when she enters a room. Her room is her sanctuary, a place to escape from a world that hates her and her kind. It was a place to decompress, and she realized it was currently being invaded by the mutant she has recently come to know as Remy LeBeau instead of just his code name of Gambit.

She sighed as her emerald eyes spot two glowing red orbs piercing through the darkness on her balcony, looking straight at her. Resigned, she accepted the intrusion and she strode to her glass French doors and pulled them open, letting the cool night air push through the room's cozy atmosphere.

"Enjoy the peep show?" she called out smartly.

"One o' de best I seen in a while," his Cajun-accented voice returned conversationally.

"Ever hear of using a door?"

"I am," he said insouciantly, exhaling smoke from his discarded cigarette as he lifted himself off his perch on the railing and sauntered towards her, always cool and collected.

"How 'bout using ones ya can't see through?" He was always doing this, she thought. He was always keeping her unsteady.

"Where's de fun in dat, _chére_?" he breathed, coming to stand over her. As his tall, lean figure came into the light streaming from her room, she could see a cocky grin plastered to his handsome face. As he stepped into her space, she reflexively took a step back. Conscious of her half-dressed state, she retreated further into her spacious room before turning around, crossing her arms and pinning him with a dismayed look that screamed of his interruption. She could guess why he was here. It was only a few hours ago that he said the very words that had sent her running - no, flying - in fear.

_'Long past time that y' an me got serious, chére.'_

Those smooth bourbon words had been echoing through her mind, assaulting her consciousness and mocking her for the better part of the night.

As she looked across the distance between them, her canopy bed providing an obstacle, Rogue knew he wasn't going to let her off so easily this time. His unusual eyes raked up and down her body, taking in her uncovered milky white limbs, his face fading into a pleased expression.

"How long ya been watchin' me?" she asked, unsettled by his unabashed scrutiny.

"Awhile," he admitted, his eyes continuing their appraisal. "Wanted t' make sure y' recovered."

She blanched a bit at his words that drip with a hint of sarcasm. No doubt he is the one recovering from her overreaction.

_'Gambit...Remy..cher...Ah..Ah NO! Ah CAN'T!'_

"Ah'm...fine," she answered slowly, pushing the embarrassing image out of her head. "Just needed time to think is all."

In truth, she hadn't been prepared for his heartfelt words, his sincerity. Of course, she knew how he felt about her. Their absorption exercise last month proved that, but she didn't think he'd actually ever... ask her out. As in be his girlfriend.

The thought of her actually being anyone's girlfriend, let alone the significant other of a shameless ladies' man like Remy, is downright laughable. She imagined their chaste dates, followed by their even more chaste goodnights. Eventually, because of her challenging mutation, he would tire of not being able to touch her - or just tire of having a girlfriend, period - and leave.

Then again, there was the whole ex-wife debacle that they are both still reeling from. Finding out about Bella Donna's existence all but crushed her. Absorbing an unconscious Belle's sense memories of being with Remy splintered her heart into a million little pieces. To know what it is like to be with Remy but to never actually experience it firsthand was...well, to say the stolen memories were torturous wasn't exactly accurate. But now wasn't the time to ruminate about Remy's former wife or her mistake of stealing the woman's memories while unconscious. She had an interested and very determined Cajun standing before her, waiting for a response.

"Of course you had a life before ya came here," she conceded. "So did Ah..." As her speech drifts off, so does her eye contact. True, her history with men was scanty at best but her few experiences weren't exactly positive. Her time with Magneto in the Savage Lands came to mind as does her first experience with a boy - Cody. Visions of Angel and Longshot also soared through her mind's eye, but they hadn't ever meant anything. Dazzler's boyfriends were just pawns to Rogue, meant to be relentlessly flirted with in an effort to piss the mutant songbird off. The results were rather mixed if Rogue remembered correctly.

The closest she had ever come to love was with Magnus. Her affection for him certainly could have turned into love had he not shown his true colors - his ruthlessness and lack of respect for life ultimately turned any kind of soft feelings to pure disgust and repulsion. She wondered briefly about the kind of travesties Remy had encountered in his life with the Guild and ultimately on his own. How is he any different than Erik, she wondered. And why didn't Remy's questionable morals seem bother her as much now?

Amused at the turn of the conversation, he asked, "We gon' talk 'bout our exes, _petit'_?"

She lifts an eyebrow in his direction. "Noooo," she drawled. "It's not about other people or who were with those people. This," she said, motioning the space between them, "this is about us. No one else."

"Y' right. It is 'bout us," he agreed. "I know how I feel 'bout y' and y' know how I feel y'. But, _chérie_, what's goin' on in dat pretty head of yours?"

She looked away, shaking her head slightly and sorting through all the things she wanted to say. Careful planning be damned, she ended up blurting out exactly what she has been pondering since their disastrous encounter earlier that day.

"Didja mean what ya said 'bout gettin' serious?" The jumbled words escaped her lips before she lost the nerve to say them.

He chuckled lightly, the rich sound stretching across the tension-filled room. He is never nervous, she noted. Never. "Say again, _chére_?"

"Ah mean," she started slowly, contemplating her words this time. "Why would ya want ta be serious with someone like me?"

"Someone like y', Rogue?" She felt his glowing eyes burn through her. She barely noticed as he carefully advanced on her. "Is dere anyone else in dis entire world like y'?" he questioned with a smile. "_Non_. I seen de world, _chére_. Ain't nobody out dere close t' bein' like y'. Y' one of a kind, for true."

"Like a treasure," she responded quietly, remembering how he had used that very word to describe her after their one-on-one Danger Room session when he had insisted she take his powers. Her breathing quickened as he appeared not two inches before her. Her stripped-down state poses something of a problem, she thought idly. Funny how she couldn't work up the resolve to care.

"Dat's better," he said, leaning in.

"Remy...Mah skin..." she whispered, her accent becoming more pronounced as her hands rested on the lapels of his ever-present trench coat.

"Not afraid, _chére_. Never afraid," he mumbled as his forehead came to rest upon hers, both mutants' thick hair providing a barrier against Rogue's poison skin.

"But Ah could-" she weakly protested.

"Why y' so worried 'bout ol' Remy? Y' care 'bout me or somet'in'?" he teased.

"Don' wantcha in mah head."

"Already dere."

"Yeah, but..." She wasn't sure what she was arguing anymore. She only knows that Remy's lips were angling dangerously in front of hers, that her hands were now wrapped in his coat and that his own hands were strategically placed on her soft hips over her sweatpants. She sensed the heat from those strong, graceful hands radiating through the loose-knit cotton, branding her with his electric touch.

"What are y' afraid of, _chére_?"

"Bein' alone," she quietly admitted.

"We all alone. Some more so dan ot'ers."

"Maybe Ah don't wanna be alone anymore."

"Don' have t' be," he murmured as his lips crash into hers.

Surprised by his impulsive action, it took Rogue a split second longer to push him away before her powers do real damage.

Feelings of lust and determination immediately streamed through her. And if she cared to delve deeper, she could identify feelings that looked a little like love.

"Ya can't do that," she breathed heavily, anger mixing with bewilderment and desire. "Or at least warn me so Ah can put up something of a guard."

"C-couldn't, couldn't help m'self, Rogue," he said unsteadily, leaning against a bed post, no doubt feeling weak and lightheaded from their brief embrace. "Wan' y' so bad sometimes. Wan' t' show y' that y' are desirable."

"Hard to show gal when you're unconscious," she explained, trying to sort through Remy's racing thoughts. "May wanna keep that in mind."

He let out small laugh. "Will do." Looking up at her, he beckoned her to him, his body still feeling the aftereffects of being drained by Rogue's power. "C'mere, Roguey."

"Ya gonna try somethin' stupid again?"

"Stupid? _Oui_. Dangerous? _Non_. Walk dem pretty legs over here."

She cautiously closed the gap between them. "Ah will put ya through a wall, Cajun," she warned.

"Dere's dat attitude I love so much."

There's that word. Love. She stood before him anxious and intrigued. She wouldn't put it past the idiot Cajun to try to kiss her again despite his promise otherwise. She eyed him warily, her body ready to flee at any moment. She identified the vague stirrings of Gambit's powers - the spatial awareness, the agility making her body feel lighter and, of course, her fingers tingling with untapped kinetic energy - all of it feeding into her increasing nervousness.

She flinched backward as he shrugged out of his trench, the same garment her fingers had been fiercely entangled in just moments ago.

"_Détendez_, _chére_," he soothed as he pulled the beat-up coat from his lean body and draped it around her exposed body.

She was confused. "Is there a reason Ah'm wearin' this sorry excuse for a coat?"

Wordlessly, he reached forward and popped the soft brown collar up, arranging it over her lips.

She started to protest and he silenced her with a pacifying "shh." His arms snaked around her body, holding her in place. His lips again descended upon hers, but this time, the worn leather provided a barrier to hold Rogue's absorption at bay.

He pulled away before she can process what he has done. She looked at him wide eyed, her heart pulsing rapidly.

"Dat's just a G-rated preview of what we can do, _chére_. Don' worry 'bout de t'ings we can't do and focus on what we can." He towered so close to her, his spicy scent filled her nostrils, intoxicating her, and she struggled to put together a coherent thought. Though it did occur to her that if he's willing to put her at ease, then she should return the favor.

"What can we do, Remy?" Her question was bold and she thought she delivered it solidly despite the lack of oxygen that came from having him so close.

His lips curled up into a smile that looked faintly predatory. "Anyt'ing y' want, _chére_. We c'n do anyt'ing." Though he's reluctant to do so, he backed away before continuing nonchalantly. "Wit' a certain amount of what I like to call creativity."

Small shocks raced down her spine.

"It's up t' y'." He smiled kindly at her, knowing he'd convinced her. "Why don' y' sleep on it? Let me know in de mornin', hmm?"

"Okay," she responded softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"_D'accord_."

"Here, wait," she called at his retreating figure, pulling off his trench coat, the very thing that had separated their intimacy, and at the same time, had brought them together.

"Y' keep it warm for me t'night, _chére_," he said, casting his smoldering ruby eyes in her direction. "Get it later."

And very much like the thief he was, he disappeared quickly and silently into the night, leaving Rogue puzzled, intrigued and aroused. And gloriously enveloped in his coat.


	5. The Answer

Disclaimer: Is there any part of this story or its characters I can own? No? Okay, then...

Special shout-out to CatBru for being an amazing sounding board. If you haven't checked out her X-themed "Overture to a Train Wreck," do it now!

***x***

Truth be told his coat wasn't the most comfortable article of clothing to sleep in - decks of cards (really, how many cards did a man need?) and unidentified objects kept poking her no matter which position she settled in, but it didn't matter because a piece of him was wrapped around her. Along with his residual personality hanging around from their earlier kiss, it was almost like having him right there with her. Almost.

When she finally eased into slumber, she found it less than restful. Her dreamscape was filled with Remy and her doing... things. Things that made her moan and cry out in her sleep. Rolling to her back, she stared at her canopy, wired and frustrated... in more ways than one. The sun was glimmering on the horizon and Rogue knew that, despite the early hour, she needed to talk to Remy. He did say they would talk in the morning, and technically, it was morning.

She quietly exited her room and made her way to the men's wing of the mansion, still wearing his trench coat as it dragged at her feet. As she carefully navigated the dark hallways, she tried to organize her thoughts. She had no real answer to give him - only that he was driving her crazy. When he wasn't taunting her with his sensuality in her waking hours, he was seducing and pleasing her beyond her wildest dreams in her sleep. One way or another, Rogue was doing something about it.

Rounding the final corner that would lead her to his door, she was struck by a stray, but recent, memory. When she was watching over Bella Donna in New Orleans, Tante Mattie, the wise healer who could look through a person's very soul, had announced to Rogue the very thing she had been trying to ignore - that she loved Remy. At the time, she had brushed off the old woman's words, too wrapped up in other things, namely Gambit's ex-wife, to give them credence. But now, with her uncovered hand poised to knock on his door, she couldn't hide from her feelings anymore. She was in love with Remy LeBeau.

Steeling herself, she sealed her fate with a bold knock. Waiting a moment and not hearing a response, she knocked again; this time, louder and more insistent. She heard the springs of his bed creak, followed by an unintelligible response.

"'m coming," she heard him grumble.

And then the door opened, revealing a sleepy and annoyed half-naked Remy. His aggravation, however, quickly dissolved when he realized Rogue stood before him, looking equally as weary, though her green eyes were shining brightly.

"_Chére_? What- what time is it?" His voice was rough from being woken so abruptly and Rogue found it utterly charming. Taking in his bare, chiseled chest and his tousled mess of auburn hair, she fought a fierce urge to push him up against the wall and kiss him senseless.

"Ah have ta talk ta ya," she said breathlessly.

"Y' okay?" He moved aside, gesturing for her to come in.

"Ah have ta talk ta ya about what happened earlier," she clarified as she entered, noticing the neatness of his room - a place she had never been before. In fact, she had hoped it was his door she knocking on - rather than, say, Wolverine, or worse, Cyclops. She didn't know how she would be able to explain her strange pre-dawn appearance, especially when she was still wearing Gambit's now crumpled excuse of a coat.

Remy ran a hand over his sleep-worn face, his body still adjusting to its wakeful state. "Know I said we'd talk in de morning, but Rogue, _chére_, the sun, she's not yet shown her face."

"Ah know but what Ah have ta say, it can't wait," she said, eyes pleading with him to listen.

"Den, by all means, _chére_, speak." For the first time, he realized she still wore his coat. So maybe he was having an effect on her, he mused.

"Ah'm afraid of being with you, Remy," she started hesitantly, wringing her hands nervously. "Ah'm afraid of the things you make me feel. Ah can't even touch you, and yet, you're under mah skin. Ah don't know how ya do that," she added quietly, not quite able to make eye contact with his ruby eyes that were puncturing through the room's dimness.

Finally she was exposing her feelings and leaving her heart vulnerable for him to either nurture or crush it, and Remy found himself at a loss for words, having assured himself she'd never get to this point, no matter how hard he pushed. One false move or wrong word and he could scare her off for good. The girl was wound tighter than a watch spring.

"Ah was thinking about what you were saying and sure we can do THAT, but what else? There's more ta a relationship than that, right?" she asked with a flicker of apprehension.

Her innocence had always intrigued him, at the moment more so. "Sure dere is," he drawled, keeping his face impassive.

"What Ah'm sayin' is Ah wanna take this slow," she forged on. "Like really slow."

"I c'n do dat, Rogue. We take dis as slow or fast as y' wan'. Know I come on strong, but it's 'cause 'm interested in y', _chére_. But dat don't mean I don't respect y' or y' wishes. Y' call de shots, _chére_. Know y' like dat part real well," he teased gently.

Relieved that he was taking her request seriously and at the same time teasing her, she found she could easily settle into their familiar banter patterns. "Ya tryin' ta call me bossy or somethin'?" she challenged, her once nervous hand finding a steady place on her now-cocked hip.

"_Moi_? _Jamais_," he smirked. "Y' just like t'ings de way y' like 'em. And when y' don', well, let's jus' say y' make feelings known. Not dat I mind. Like a strong woman. 'Especially when dey c'n throw m' sorry ass t'rough a wall wit'out breakin' a sweat."

"Ah fear you, swamp rat," she said deadpan, an eyebrow creeping up. "Makes me wonder why Ah'm here again."

"Oh, I'll remind y', _chére_," he purred, closing the gap between them.

She couldn't help herself as she took an instinctual step back, away from the man she had promised to commit to.

He grimaced. "Ser'ously, Rogue. Y'r not givin' me a chance if y' won' let me in."

"Ah'm sorry, Ah just-," she said, throwing her arms up plaintively. "You are lackin' in clothes and that makes me nervous."

"Told y', _chére_, ain't afraid of y' skin." Even so, he moved around his room and found a T-shirt, if only to put her ease. "Or y' attitude," he added playfully as he tugged the shirt on and pulled on a pair of full-fingered gloves for good measure.

"If ya knew what was good for you, you'd be afraid of both," she responded pointedly, her trepidation lessening.

"Gambit doesn't do what's good for him, _ma cherie_. Y' know dat."

"Ah know. That's what scares me."

Facing her, he replied smoothly, "Y' covered up, chere, and den some. If y' keep y' hands t' y'self, t'ink we'll be fine."

"Ain't that supposed ta be mah line?"

Flashing a winsome smile, he responded, "De _femmes_ get grabby when they around Gambit. Don' blame 'em none, of course."

"When have Ah ever been grabby, Cajun?" she snapped back, her tone mixed with indignation and laughter.

He sighed dramatically. "Unfort'nately, _chére_, never. But not t' worry, dere's still time."

"Ah think Ah'm regrettin' mah decision ta give ya a chance already," she said sardonically.

"'M jus' gettin' started, _chére_. Can' back out now." He reached for her, his eyes glowing more vibrantly.

"Guess not," she whispered, wrapping herself tighter in his coat.

"Dere, now dat dat's settled, y' gon' let me get some sleep?" he asked wryly. Wordlessly, he tugged the cuffs that hung from her arms and gently guided Rogue to his bed.

"Remy-"

"Shh," he soothed, silencing her protests by sweeping the soft collar of the trench over her lips and pressing his face to hers. "See? We c'n be close, Rogue. It's jus' a matter o' maneuvering."

As he settled onto the bed, pulling her down on his lap, his hands traveled under the worn leather seeking her curves. A small moan erupted from her lips as Remy continued his exploration of her lush body.

"Can't believe," she breathed, "that we're doin' this."

"Never thought I'd be kissin' m' coat neit'er but y' make me do crazy t'ings, _chére_."

"The craziest - " she said breathily as she leaned into his circle of heat.

At that moment a loud banging came from the other side of Gambit's door, followed by the voice of Scott Summers announcing that it was time for the 6 a.m. men's Danger Room session - an appointment Remy conveniently forgot.

"Didn't realize you were so popular 'fore dawn," Rogue said darkly, her pupils wide from pleasure.

"_Oubliez-le_," he growled.

"Sugah, we both know he ain't leavin' 'til ya answer that door."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he pulled away from Rogue, setting her on the bed, and stalked to the door. "C'n I help y'?" came the Cajun's snarled greeting as he faced his annoying team leader.

"You're late for a scheduled Danger Room practice," Scott said tersely. "We're all waiting on you."

"As y' c'n see," Gambit said, running a gloved hand through his hair to show that simply being dressed was progress, "'M gettin' ready."

"Five minutes, Gambit," he said sternly. "After that, I let Wolverine have a shot at you." Leaving his warning hanging in the air, the leader of the X-Men walked away.

"Wouldn't wan' dat," Remy said sarcastically under his breath as he shut the door.

"Can't imagine why y'all are late." As he turned around, he saw Rogue smirking.

He smiled as he returned to the bed. "Had dis _belle fille_ come to m' door and she couldn't keep her hands off me."

"Oh, now Ah can't help but throw mahself at ya, huh?" she purred.

"Said it would take time. Took y' 'bout ten minutes," he grinned as he crawled over her lounging form.

"Hmm," she murmured. "You really shouldn't be late. Well, later than ya already are."

Resting his head on her shoulder, he sighed. "Right y' are, _chére_."

"I do like hearin' the sound of that."

"Not only do y' make me do crazy t'ings, y' make me say 'em, too," he resigned, drawing away from her.

Flashing him a million-watt smile, she shrugged out of the coat she had cherished for the better part of a night. "For ya session," she said, coyly offering the coat back to him. "Now ya can think of me."

"Will do, _chére_. Be here when I get back?" he asked hopefully.

Crawling back into his bed and stretching out on his silk bed sheets, she drawled, "Be waitin' for ya, darlin'."

Smiling wickedly, he said, "Oh, _chére_. We gon' be good toget'er. I c'n tell."

***x***

Moi? Jamais = Me? Never.  
Oubliez-le = Forget about him.  
belle fille = beautiful girl


	6. The Beginning

Disclaimer: I've kinda got a non-ownership vibe goin' on here. Pretty sure Marvel/Disney owns these people.

***x***

Remy whistled a jaunty Zydeco tune as he made his way back to his room. One intensive, two-hour Danger Room session later and Remy found himself in an exceedingly good mood despite the early hour. He thought back on the exercise in which he beat Cyclops in a man-on-man battle sequence - a proper revenge for Cyke's rude interruption earlier. He relished any opportunity to put the martinet leader of the X-Men in his place.

He smiled as he recalled Summers' look of vague disgust and grudging respect at being bested by Gambit. That moment would have been enough to carry him through the rest of his day if it wasn't for a certain Southern spitfire who had promised to wait for him in his bed for his return.

Rogue... He prayed to whatever god would listen that the girl was right where he left her - full of wide eye desire and curiosity. After showering in the locker room, he dressed in pants and a long-sleeved shirt and gloves so he could get close to her in her pajama-clad state. Or in case she had decided to make herself more comfortable... He shook off the tantalizing image of a naked Rogue between his silky sheets, not wanting to get too involved in the wayward fantasy. Just getting her to agree to wait for him in his room was progress enough. Getting her undressed would take a lot of preparation on his part. But Gambit was nothing if not determined when he set his sights on a worthy cause.

He reached his door and slowly opened it to reveal a slumbering Rogue curled on her side, under his sheets, though she appeared to be clothed, to his mild chagrin. Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief she was still there. That she hadn't been spooked after she had time to analyze their tentative relationship and find ways flaws. He crept closer to the bed and grinned as he noted her sleeping form was positioned smack dab in the middle of the bed - a true sign of a person who had never had to share bed space before. And he found it utterly adorable, a word he had never once applied to a woman he was interested in and certainly not one he wanted to sleep with.

He walked over to his bed and perched himself next to her, studying her peaceful face. Gone was the tough girl mask, and in its place was an innocence that struck the deepest part of his heart. For all her bravado, Rogue was naive when it came to life, particularly the opposite sex. For someone who was raised by a terrorist, Rogue maintained a child-like view of the world, petulance and all. The paradox intrigued him. It was one of the many facets of the emotionally closed-off mutant that drew him in. Of course, her lush body and killer curves certainly didn't hurt, but those thoughts were best saved for another time...

His gloved hand reached over to caress her cheek. "Wake up, Sleepin' Beauty," he murmured softly.

Her eyelids fluttered open, confusion briefly passing over her emerald-colored eyes.

"Hmm, musta fallen asleep," she said, her voice husky from sleep. "Was beginnin' t' think ya weren't comin' back, sugar."

"Psssh, y' t'ink I'd leave a pretty girl waitin' in m' bed'? Not likely."

Propping her head on her hand, the thin, silky sheet falling to her waist, she shot him a surveying glace, mock reproach tingeing her voice. "'S'it that all Ah am ta ya? A pretty girl?"

"De prettiest, _chére_," he volleyed smoothly with a wink as he settled down closer to her. He lounged back on a pillow, his body angled towards her.

"Betcha say that to all the girls who grace your bed." She said it teasingly but Remy could sense her underlying seriousness.

"Only de ones who can launch me into outer space," he said with an easy smile.

She chuckled. "Doesn't seem like a bad idea."

His fist went to his chest, imitating a knife driving through his heart. "Y' wound me, _chére_. And after I was so nice t' y' earlier," he said, his voice dipping into a sultry rumble.

A faint blush painted her cheeks as she remembered their mock kiss, his hands roaming her heated body and his promise to "creatively" work around their no-touch issue.

His hand again went to her face for a caress, but she caught it, bringing it to the space between them on the bed. She was already on sensory overload without him touching her. It was amazing the way his innuendos twisted her insides and heated her face. Instead, she allowed her bare fingers to playfully move across his covered ones. Eager to steer him away from the physical contact she was so clumsy with, she asked about his Danger Room practice.

He smirked at her diversion tactic but chose to indulge her - for now. "Was good actually. Productive. Ushered a group o' civilians t' safety. Led de team t' victory with a strategically placed charged Ace o' Spades to a sentinel's head. Took on Scooter in a one-on-one setting, successfully immobilizin' him an' winnin' de match. Dat'll show him not t' interrupt me when 'm tryin' t' put de moves on a very stubborn _fille_. Was enough motivation for me."

She quirked an eyebrow. "Stubborn, huh?"

His hand captured hers in a solid hold. "But in de best possible sense, y' see."

Without much effort, she tried to extricate her hand from his, but he tightened his grip and ran his thumb across the top of her hand. "Uh huh. How're ya feelin' about Saturn, sugar?" she asked impassively.

"'S'long as y' keep m' bed warm for me when I return," he replied, bringing her hand painfully close to his lips. "See y' already gettin' in y'r practice."

She yanked her hand away before his lips could make contact with her bare fingers. "Not sure ya should be gettin' used ta it," she said tightly. "Ain't likely ta become a habit."

Realizing he pushed her sensitive boundaries too far, he attempted to backtrack by professing his own fear. "Admit to being mildly worried dat y'd be gone when I got back. Must say 'm surprised y'r here."

She took a breath before answering. "Didn't seem right ta leave after what we discussed. You tellin' me Ah'm constantly running from ya, and you're not wrong. Figured if we're gonna start trustin' each other and take a stab at this, then Ah need ta quell the urge ta bolt every time ya give me a wink and a saucy smile."

"Did I jus' hear de T word flow from y' beautiful lips, _chére_?" he smirked. "'M impressed."

She pressed on. "You've got a past, and so do Ah. We both got things we ain't proud ta have done. But we have to start somewhere, Ah suppose."

"I'd say dis is a _very_ good start," His hand moved to a spot on her hip where her tank top had slightly risen, exposing milky white skin, and began drawing haphazard patterns.

"It helps ya have a comfy bed," she quipped, her body reflexively stilling when the soft leather of his glove made contact with her skin. That she could joke while lying in such close proximity to him Remy took as a definite sign of progress. Maybe this could work, he thought.

"I do like a soft place t' lay m' head," he commented, subtly eyeing her voluptuous chest while gently squeezing her hip.

"Your pillows _are_ pretty fluffy," she returned slyly, unconsciously leaning into him.

"Glad y' like 'em," he said as he shifted into a horizontal position. "Say, t'ink y' could move yo' bed-hoggin' self over a few more inches. Like t' stretch out if I could."

"Ah am not hogging this bed!" she exclaimed indignantly. "Ah'm barely takin' up any space at all."

"Rogue, _chére_," he said gently, his voice lilting, "when y' got another person wit' y' in a bed, y' can't stay in de middle. Ain't polite."

She snorted unceremoniously. "Are y' seriously teachin' me bedside manners?"

His hand sliding to caress her butt, his voice laden with desire, he said, "If 'm gon' teach y' about behavior in bed, Rogue, manners ain't gon' be on de list."

Her stomach clenched at the sexually charged statement. Just like one of his many playing cards, he could ignite his words in a way that made it feel as if _she_ was the one exploding. Before she could recover, he pressed on.

"O' course," he said, his voice rumbling dangerously low, "dat's not what dis is about right now."

"What is it about, Remy?" she challenged.

Anchoring his hand back on her hip, he rolled onto his side and moved closer so that their bodies were mirror images of each other. "Did I tell y' y'r real pretty when y' wake up?" he asked.

Though vaguely anxious of his increased nearness, she gave him a small smile. "Thought ya were a better liar than that."

"_C'est vrai_," he responded matter of fact. "Y'r too beautiful to close yourself off from a relationship just because y' scared."

"Ya think Ah'm too closed off?" Her voice was small as she asked the question, already knowing it was true.

"C_hére_, y' pride y'rself on bein' one tough _femme_. T'ink y' know y' got an impenetrable exterior. Liter'lly, as de case may be."

"It's ta keep people from gettin' hurt," she pointed out.

"True, but I also t'ink it's t' keep you from gettin' hurt," he pressed. She stayed silent not wanting to acknowledge he was right.

"Sometimes I think it's better ta be lonely than heartbroken. Less painful," she admitted after a while. She thought back to the moment when she had learned of Remy's wife, Bella Donna. They weren't even a couple, and it felt like Shadowcat had reached into her chest and ripped her heart out. To learn that a ladies' man like Gambit, whose heart no one could actually even own, had been committed enough to be someone's husband for however short a time it was, left her reeling. It seemed that someone could tie him down. Just not her.

"Unfort'nately," he said carefully, "gettin' hurt is sometimes part o' de deal. As much as y' don' wan' it t' be."

Her face inched closer to his as if to challenge him. Or maybe she was trying to be brave one for once. "So why does everybody seem ta want it?" she whispered. "A relationship, that is."

Having never been the backing down sort, he positioned his head so that it was mere inches from hers. "'Cuz when it's good, it's de best t'ing out dere." As an afterthought, he added, "Apart from de perfect job, that is."

"So for the non-thievin' kind, love is it then? The best thing?"

He nodded slowly. "C'n be."

"Even when ya can't touch the one you love?" She tried to keep the sadness from lacing her words. She could feel his warm breath on her face. His lips were right there so close to hers. Was this how it would always be? So close but never touching?

"'Specially when y' can't touch her. Y' see, _p'tite_," he said, running his hand from her hip up the side of her body, "many relationships are based on de physical. Most of dem never move past dat so that y' never really get t' see de person in front of y'. Never see what's inside dem. Don' see dat she's fierce and loyal. Dat she's full of life, even if she doesn't believe it herself. Dat she's beautiful and not jus' 'cause she's got a pretty face. Dat she's got me so turned 'round I plan out ways t' make her smile."

Despite her lips turned up in an ever-growing smile, she said with mock sweetness. "Hope y'all are talkin' about me, darlin', or else I'll be developin' a ragin' case of jealousy."

His fiery eyes, which didn't appear to be dulled by the bright morning sun streaming through the curtains, pinned her with a serious gaze. "Was dere ever anyone else, _chére_? Feels like, sometimes, it's always been jus' you."

Mild surprise highlighted her face as she let his words sink in. She edged away from him as she contemplated his confession. Then, without a word, she reached for him, wrapping her arm around his stomach and curling herself against the side of him. She tucked her head under his chin and pressed her chest upon his. Without missing a beat, he turned them both so he was on his back and she rested at his side. She moved her leg to lie across his as his fingers traveled up the length of her arm before weaving into her mass of tangled hair. His other arm wrapped around her waist with his hand once again resting on her hip. His hand cradled her head possessively.

"Alright," she said quietly after they settled into their new position. So softly that he almost didn't hear it.

"_C__hére_?"

Lifting her head to meet his smoldering red on black eyes. "Let's do this."

"For real, Rogue?"

Lifting her chin, her lips curled in a half smile. "You heard me, LeBeau. Ah said Ah'm in."

His handsome face broke out in a full grin. "Well, alright den."

Returning his grin, she set her head over his heart, allowing the rhythmic throbbing to lull her in a state of near-sleep. "Remy?" she asked, tiredness slowing her speech.

He began to lightly massage her scalp as his own eyes drifted shut. "Hmm?"

"Thank you," she said simply.

"For?"

"Lettin' me be th' one who doesn't have ta cover up. At leas' right now."

He looked at the woman in his arms. "Ain't even a problem, _chére_," he said firmly.

"Jus' wan' ya t'know," she mumbled as her breathing evened.

"And I 'preciate de gratitude, _chére_. Maybe y' c'n make it up t' me after y'r nap, hmm?"

She let out a weak chuckle, her body feeling heavier and heavier on his as sleep took hold. Remy enjoyed feeling the weight of her on him and it lulled him to the outer edges of sleep as well. But he knew he couldn't let himself go in case Rogue shifted in her sleep and happened to come in contact with his uncovered neck and face. So maybe they would never be able to sleep together in the most basic sense of the word but that didn't mean they couldn't have as much contact as their situation would allow. And so long as Rogue was willing to work with him on what they could do - and it seemed she was finally allowing him to break through her carefully crafted walls - he didn't think they should dwell on what they couldn't do. They would find their own way to be close. He wasn't sure he was ready for a relationship - he had always been the type to do what he wanted when he wanted, to hell with anyone else - but something about Rogue made him want to try. As much as he tried to not care about the untouchable girl, she rarely left his mind. A quiet admission he had long been seeking to quell. With her lying contentedly in his arms, however, he knew it would be impossible to cease caring for her, though the sheer intensity of it scared him.

So he laid there with the most beautiful woman he ever been privileged to hold in his arms. He began to plan the perfect date to take her on. He wondered how Rogue would feel about a night in the city, complete with a fancy restaurant and a carriage ride through Central Park...

***x***

The end.


End file.
